


Needle

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't know, that's what Sherlock needs to remember. He just simply doesn't <i>know</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needle

“John,” Sherlock’s voice sounds shrill to his own ears, and the balls of his feet are pressing forcefully to the floor of Saint Bartholmew’s lab. His whole body feels like stone. “John, don’t.” The needle is pressed in the hollow of his elbow, preparing to draw blood ( _it’s not the same thing, Sherlock, stop being ridiculous_ —)

“It’s just a needle Sherlock,” John says, and he doesn’t know, right, okay, but.

“ _John!_ ” His voice rises to feminine levels and John stops just shy of pricking the skin.

“Don’t be a baby,” Sherlock swallows, looking up at John from his slouch on the stool ( _he feels it, the prick of skin followed by the rush in his system absolute perfection_ )

“I was a cocaine addict,” rushes out of his mouth and perhaps he could have been more tactful, “I was a cocaine addict at Uni because you could get it anywhere and I needed it so badly and Lestrade had just gotten in the Scotland Yard when he found me one evening high on the street and took me to the station and he scolded me and then I told him about a murder,” Sherlock’s talking too fast to be making much sense he thinks, but he keeps going, “and he said I could help but then I came to a scene high and he called my brother who sent me to rehab but it didn’t work—”

“Sherlock,” the needle isn’t on his arm anymore, instead it is as John’s side, and John’s free hand is on Sherlock’s cheek. “Sherlock, it’s—”

“And then Mycroft decided to do it himself, but I managed to get some anyway—”

“ _Sherlock_ ,” John takes his shoulders, _no no no, John, I’m not done talking_

“And I even have some under the floorboards beneath the coffee table at the flat.” Sherlock takes a deep breath. “It’s why the drugs bust concerned me.”

“Wait,” John palms the needle, letting go of Sherlock’s shoulders, “you have cocaine in the flat.”

“Yes. I kept it. What if you left, what if I needed it, _what if_ , John.” Sherlock glances furtively at the needle. “But I have not relapsed since four months before I met you. However, the feeling of the needle could send me back into the spiral,” ( _hey there freak care to purchase some cocaine to perk up that brain of yours or would you rather forget we have drugs for that too_ ). “I can’t relapse. I will not relapse.”

John sighs patiently, gently touching Sherlock’s hair ( _this is what a relationship does to you, makes everything gentle_ ) “Sherlock, you were hit with an ambiguous dart that seems to be affecting your adrenaline levels. I need to draw your blood.” The needle flashes again ( _Sherlock, it’s not even attached to a plunger, how are they even the same_ ) and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“John—”

“Look up at me,” and Sherlock does. He watches as John takes his left elbow and presses the needle against it (his heart spikes again, _no, John, no_ ). “I’m going to get a blood sample. Alright?” John presses his forehead against Sherlock’s, “I’ll be very careful, I’ve done this plenty of times, and I’ll make sure you’re not thinking of cocaine. You will not relapse. Are we clear?”

“John—” he begins again.

“Trust me?”

And the first thing that comes out of Sherlock’s mouth is, “always.”

And John kisses him. Long and slow and distracting (the kind of kiss that John always manages to give him right in the middle of thinking about a case), and yes, God yes, and his heart is racing for a different reason—

“There,” John pulls away, holding two tubes of Sherlock’s blood ( _the needle had penetrated, really?_ ) and carrying them to the lab equipment, after placing a small wad of gauze on the wound, adhered with a bandage.

“Do you need help?” Sherlock’s voice is shaky, the tremors are back (perhaps there was something odd on that dart).

“No, not this time Sherlock, thank you. I know how to run a toxicology exam.” John looks at him from the lab table, “are you alright?”

“Better than I thought I’d be,” he admits.

“Well, then we’ll get rid of your stash when we get home.” His eyes move back to the blood. “And I’m sorry. For the needle.”

( _a flash a rush oh god yes_ )

“It’s fine. I’ll.” Sherlock looks at him. “I’ll be fine.”

“Thank you for telling me,” John still doesn’t look up.

“It is something I perhaps should have mentioned at an earlier time.” Like before they became Sherlock-and-John rather than Sherlock and John.

“No. It’s fine.” And now John does look up again. “I love you, you know.”

“Yes,” Sherlock replies, “I know.” He breathes out through his nose, trying to reign in the adrenaline again, “I love you too.”

John smiles then, small and still perfect (like all of them, frankly) and he gets back to work. Sherlock watches. And the heart he had been sure he didn’t have clenches when John moves the needle out of Sherlock’s sight.

( _thank you John thank you_ )

“Angelo’s after?” Sherlock suggests.

“Yes, that would be grand. Might even get whatever-this-is out of you faster if you’d actually eat.”

When they get home, after Angelo’s, Sherlock calls Lestrade to get his stash, please, he doesn’t need it anymore. He thinks Lestrade actually sounds a little proud.

And then he sits down ( _guilty, Sherlock, you really should have mentioned it before_ ) next to John, squeezing into his chair. Without preamble (other than the hospital only hours before) he beings to speak of his time at University.

John wraps his arms around him and listens, just listens, when Sherlock talks ( _flashes of needle, wait, no, calm down_ ). And right now, that’s all he wants.

John can ask about it when Sherlock’s done.


End file.
